Palyne

I think I was asleep. It’s been a long time since I had an experience and genuinely didn’t know afterward if I had been asleep or awake or somewhere in between. This was yesterday morning I think. Or the day before.

I was standing in the dirt with a blue sky overhead. In front of me and off to the side a bit was a small and motley assortment of people who appeared to be doing archeology work. Digging something out. I walked casually toward them, feeling a tug on my memory, but unable to place it, and so shrugging it off. Most of them were sitting below the plane of the land that surrounded the location. It went down probably 15-20′ before it reached the artifact area, and at that point, there was a shallow, perhaps 3-5 foot deep, squared inset area, maybe 30-40′ squared (wild guess, don’t remember exactly). Several steps the full width of the area led up the sides of the inset area.

Behind where most of them worked, visible in the wall of dirt they had dug back to, a couple of columns had already been dug free, and it looked like more were behind that, awaiting. I figured this meant it was some greco-roman kind of building, given the look of the columns. I turned slightly and saw that there were a few small handwritten signs around that described different areas of what they were digging out. As there were people around, tourists it seemed, I thought this might be to reduce how often they bothered the people digging with questions.

I was just about to turn and leave when I noticed the small sign pointing to “the courtyard” inset area, as it called it. I looked back at it again, that tug-of-memory bothering me, and then all the sudden it hit me: I used to live there. I knew that place. Read the rest of this entry »

Yesterday when napping I had such an ‘astral-ish’ dream. The sort where you can totally feel your energy body moving around. It vaguely related to remote viewing but I didn’t remember much detail. Only that I was lying on a trampoline and gently throwing myself (impossibly) up into the air and then sinking low and rebounding.

Last night I was dreaming and again, I was focused on remote viewing. Not a surprise as I’ve been working on a human target pool yesterday and today. A man showed up to help me who seemed normal and friendly, we were going to be working on my RV, and I was just feeling enthusiastic when another man showed up very suddenly and pulled me away from him, forward in space but somehow in time as well.

The man who had arrived had a ‘fascination’ element for me; his eyes were black and hypnotic. In the back of my head, I was concerned about the nice guy, but couldn’t seem to think very clearly about it anymore.

We were continuing on this journey, and the first man showed up behind us to join me. He seemed to think that it was his place to be with me related to RV. The second man with ‘the eyes’ grabbed him and threw him some impossible distance away. I looked back, stricken, worried that he would be harmed, and it seemed he had crumbled in a heap in the distance. But then the new guy’s eyes distracted me and we continued on. Read the rest of this entry »

I was quick-browsing some email archives online at the dojo info site, when I came upon a few posts I had forgotten about. I actually had once tried to find these, knowing I’d written them down, but couldn’t, so I’m delighted I stumbled on them.

Odd because there is a small parallel between a dream I posted not long ago (either here or on mypsiche blog) about this golden thing ‘growing’ in a cave.

This dream recorded might have been the accidental beginning of my targets-as-archetypes in remote viewing. It is circa 2003 sometime.

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Several days ago my practice target was Green Lake in the Carlsbad Caverns. I was happy with the (brief? ) session. But during it I had this subtle sense of being… vast.

As an Aspect recently suggested I try and get in contact with targets AFTER feedback–consciously–I decided to try this, to see if I could figure out what in this target caused the ‘vast’ feeling. So I looked at the pic and tried to tune into the cave in general.

It was a nice meditation but I didn’t find anything.

I went to sleep about an hour later, and had the most amazing dream. Like many of my so-called ’spiritual’ dreams, it had what I call my ‘elementals of soul’–another female and 2 males, but we are also all one.

In the dream, we were looking for a cave. In the cave, was a secret; it included gold. Somehow the concept of gold was bigger than a pretty mineral though. We had to find the cave, first.

There was a bad guy and his minions, also looking, racing us. The bad guy was not evil actually, more like an adversary than enemy, he was just very aggressive. We went to where two caves, next to each other, had all his guys in there with big lights and machinery, looking for the treasure. Read the rest of this entry »

The last two days have been very odd for me. My dreams have had a depth that is pretty rare and I haven’t seen regularly in many years. And this morning when I woke up, I felt that my ‘awareness’ was ’still at depth’. I felt tranced but not in the normal dull-fuzzy way, rather just in the most-my-brain-is-deeper way. I was so intensely sleepy, the sort of feeling I used to get when my body/soul/whatever was insisting I sleep immediately to work something out, that a couple hours after I woke up this morning, I went back to sleep!

My kid woke me up later, astounded I was sleeping so late. (That’s really something, coming from her, haha.) So I got up and made her food and did a few things online and then knew that I had to go back to sleep yet again. No matter how illogical it seemed, my body was insisting. So I went back to sleep for several hours.

I dreamed so deeply. What seemed like hundreds of dreams. Some were surface dreams but they involved events and people that haven’t been in my life in 20-25 years. Most were deep dreams and one of the oddest factors was the awareness factor of a third element that was neither me nor dream. Dreams would be stopped at some point and someone would ask me, are you aware you’re dreaming? or they would point out to me some element of the dream situation I was missing, or they would say, so what would be your decision in a situation like this? It was so odd, as it felt almost like a spiritual interview of some kind as well as education as part of it. Yet when I woke up, the whole content of the examples vanished from me and I ‘understood’ that was the way it had to be. Read the rest of this entry »

This is an experience I had near the end of 1993 I believe. Although I’ve written it down to others a few times, it’s not in my formal archives and I have no idea where to find it, so I thought I would record it again for posterity. I remembered it after reading the latest post on the CobalSigil blog.

I was definitely in a trance state, but not deeply; I was resting, having finished email, and was considering what to do about dinner, as I gazed mindlessly out my back sliding glass door. It was still very light outside though evening was approaching fast, and I was feeling a bit languid and didn’t much feel like getting up and doing anything.

It took me a little while to realize that something had just happened. Often this kind of thing actually goes on for a bit before my conscious mind clues in and decides to pay attention. I had just “shared” the experience of an entity.

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He had traveled far to make the request. Journeyed among many lands and strange creatures to get to the place where you could make a petition to the Gods. Maybe if you were lucky, the Gods might hear you; there was no other choice, now. Read the rest of this entry »

I had a very linear deep-dream the other night. I woke up, checked email, and saw my boyfriend had sent me a link to some video he said related to dolphins. I responded in email briefly, “I just had a dream that involved a dolphin!” but I was busy getting ready for work and completely forgot about his video as well as about my dream, until just a little while ago when he reminded me. It’s one of those whole story dreams, from first-person perspective. I wish I’d recorded it sooner because now I think I’ve forgotten some important stuff.

There are a lot of concepts and words I’ve forgotten so I have to use some from my mind in this-reality as I’ve no other way to describe them, though I think they are ‘near’ not ‘exact’ in that case. There was a WORD in the dream for ‘the gold thing’ but I don’t remember it now so I just have to say ‘of the gold’. There was a word for ‘anchoring’ that was a little different, but I can’t remember that either. Oh well!

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It was a long time he’d been gone. Everybody had avoided talking about it, of course. They didn’t want to raise doubt, or weaken faith. But our best and brightest, our most courageous warrior, had gone off to seek the Golden object that was our tribe’s spiritual heritage, and he had never returned. How long could we wait, I wondered, until they said something? Would we ever as a people admit to failure? And what then? Read the rest of this entry »

I only got like 2 hours sleep. I barely managed to get my ass outta bed and function to start work. Geez this was easier when I wasn’t 43 (in 3 days!). Have a break here and wanted to record the dream I was having when I woke up, because I have the feeling it relates to the meditation and/or maybe the card.

Oh, so before I went to sleep, I dug out my Thoth tarot deck. It took awhile to find it. I searched the shelves in my room, then the big shelves in the living room, then some storage drawers, then came back and searched the drawers on my bed (it has 12), and I found the deck inside a bag in one of those. That side of my bed has been so close to the wall for 2.5 years since I got this bed–until 2 weeks ago when I moved my bed–I’d forgotten it was there.

Before that I had been working on ideas for the ‘mental tools’ concept in RV, in ‘process’ (I’d already worked out some for ‘in reporting’). I was in a decent state of mind as a result, though sleepy. Then I found and went through the deck. I found the ‘wands’ section. I was looking for something with red, a foot (human foot; there was a big double footprint that also had red, like from big boots or something, in my visual flash), and maybe a horse. As it turns out, all the wands have red. And all the 1-10 cards are just wands. That left the queen of wands (an awesome pic, a woman with big twisting horns), the king (a barefoot man in a chariot pulled by some creature), and the knight — a man with big boots, on a rearing horse. So, that’s the only one it could be.

I studied the card a bit. It seems rather dull to be honest. I’ve no idea what it is supposed to signify, though I can look it up today. I wondered if maybe the knight being a traditional symbol of ‘rescue’ had anything to do with it. I don’t know if that’s true or not but I had a major lower-body abreaction right then, so I felt that confirmed that at least was the card for sure. I set it out on my bedside table and asked IG and the 3 guides from the consortium to please help me process this energy (the card and the archetype) in dreams as much as possible.

So when I woke up this morning (barely, with my alarm going off repeatedly), I was having this dream: Read the rest of this entry »

I was reading a post on a friend’s blog and it reminded me of one of the cooler old tech dreams. I’m actually writing part of this dream into a novel funny enough, or a small facet of it anyway. This is one of the dreams that are ridiculously linear and detailed — and seem much more like “sitting in on another life” than just ‘a dream’.

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I was ‘an aspect of’ a man. Rather like The Four and how we work in multiple lives. I was sort-of him, but also separate. The man was an engineer but in a very advanced way, and he was an inventor.

He had invented this technology that was very cool. Basically what it did is, it ‘felt out’ all the ‘contiguous space’ of a given area at the atomic or molecular level. You could ’set’ the tool to a max area and to ‘find the boundaries’ kind of like graphics programs do. This was the first thing it did; it could measure and then create (with an interface to a computer) a perfect ‘map’ of the exact ’space’ inside any open object or structure.

Read the rest of this entry »

I dreamed last night, and I think it symbolically relates to the meditative stuff so I’m putting it here.

I lived on a fairly high floor on an island. But it was storming bigtime, a literal typhoon, high winds and seas, and the waters and flooding came. Concerned it was going to reach my floor even though it was so high, I became really worried when it was obvious it would. A wave knocked down the outer wall of my apartment and I grabbed the big soft sofa and held on as tight as I could.

The sofa I was on washed out of my apartment and into the water. Sure I would capsize and die at any moment, or something big would hit me and I would die at any moment, or in fact SOMETHING was likely to happen causing me to die at any moment, I held on to the sofa, closed my eyes tight, and tried to “think positively about every good probability that could happen to save me”–not to spell it out in my mind, because I did not know WHAT those probabilities might be, but to allow them, to assume that my subconscious was capable of finding and arranging them, it feeling just like when I had allowed the many disparate archetypes to come under connection in my meditation earlier–and time passed.

I woke up later to find myself floating near the far shore of a different island that had been a helluva distance away. This was astronomically improbable, that I would survive the storm and flood and typhoon and end up that far away. As my sofa beached itself, I got up and waded through the water toward the shore. There was a small loose group of people there, some of whom came to me curiously, and when it became known that I had miraculously survived getting washed out a high window all the way from the other island, I became something of an instant celebrity.

I stayed on that island for awhile.

Eventually when things were cleaning up a bit I went back to my own island. My building was still standing. I went up the stairs to my floor and into my apartment. The wall was gone of course, and most of the door, and a portion of the wall to the next one over. There was a sign saying that they (someone official) was going to be “re-flooring” part of my level and all of my apartment, so I walked gingerly.

In the next apartment, two women were there, one black and one white. {Note: this is a symbol of the Four for me, the polarities.} They made it clear to me that I was not going to be appropriate living on that island anymore. The authorities had imposed rules that would somehow, implicitly be a problem for me. I didn’t really understand. I went to a different part of the island, and some political council was meeting, walking around looking at the situation, and one of the men saw me, and said that I was to be jailed… for something that seemed kind of retarded, but also seemed to relate to my gall in surviving that storm and going to the other island.

I considered living there in hiding. Taking a new identity. But I saw the future, where eventually I was caught. I decided I simply wouldn’t be able to live on that island any more. The other one had seemed so much more free, even though it was less developed, and the people were kinder to me. So I was arranging to get a flight back to the other island when I woke up.

In my dreams, water nearly always represents spirit, houses nearly always represent the structure of my reality, vehicles (from bikes to cars) represent my body. When I’ve had fairly significant internal shifts, I have often dreamed about various kinds of flooding, often ocean (I am a beach-girl, growing up, so it’s usually ocean). Seems at least potentially related to the meditations earlier.

Hoping to get to another later today.

PJ

This is an “experience” I had back in… I think the early 1990s. I’m not sure, now that I think about it, much of that era blurs for me. A vision? Waking dream? Alternate reality experience? Who knows. I don’t think I’ve written it down anywhere, but it really moved me and made me think deeply about a few things, so having recalled it the other day when talking to a friend, it occurred to me that I ought to blog about it.

I’d been playing guitar with a guy named Tom Connell some time before. Highly intelligent, very talented, good looking guy and a helluva guitarist, he intrigued me. His brother Chris had been my best buddy for quite some time when we met. I paid him to give me lessons, of a sort; I’d never had any, which he found hard to believe. He taught me to play “Stormy Monday” which I considered worth all the cash combined, though I don’t even remember it now.

What I do remember is that after a life of being damnably influenced by the music I loved, trying desperately not to write songs that sounded like clones (no jokes about my 200 songs in A-minor, now…), one night I set out to deliberately, for the first time in my life, deliberately write a song to sound like another. I made a list of rules: it had to have these jazz chords, this kind of timing, and so on. I’d never written anything with any ‘rules’ in place, and it was actually very cool. (That one was called “Count to Ten and Leave You.” I imagined it being done on an acoustic guitar, sung by some appropriately black-soul-brother-of-blues, of course.) It came out different yet groovy, rather like writing exercises that are ’structured’ sometimes do.

The funny part was, it sounded NOTHING like Stormy Monday, and in fact it would be difficult to sound any more UNlike the song if I’d tried. (Tom laughed like crazy.) So ironic, all things considered.

Anyway, one day when I hadn’t seen him in quite some time, for some reason I was fairly deep in thought about him. He was the epitome of passive-aggressive: both he and his brother got a good dose of it (thanks Mom). He’d been Valedictorian of his high school, for godssakes. He could have done ANYTHING with his life. At that moment he could have been a CEO, a creative architect, a professor, a scientist, anything. The guy was brilliant, with more potential than 98% of the population.

Instead, he packed up his guitar and left Phoenix for California… to play guitar. He didn’t want to be all those things; he wanted to play rock & roll.

So years later, there he was. A couple kids, a long-suffering, beautiful wife, a fantastic skill at guitar, yet-another band, and… and not much else. He wanted to play guitar, not work nine to five. He made very little money at his music-store day job, played whenever he could for money, and in a way, to me he summed up what I’d watched go past me my whole life: the faded fringes of the music industry.

I grew up on the fringes. Dad managed the biggest instrument store in the county most of my life, and played (guitar, steel and vocals) professionally since before I was born. There was a constant parade of excited musicians and new recording contracts and people hoping for that big break and, as any real musician knows, a whole world full of people with more skill than nearly anybody you’ll ever hear on the radio, who can’t get arrested let alone make much money to play.

And it’s a long road, and a weary one, and you’d better be in it for the love of music because most the time all it does is rob your wallet, your years and your optimism and leave you wondering, what the hell would I have done with my life, if I’d known this outcome?

(Which reminds me, I wrote a song called “L.A. Stone” about this idea and him, much later.)

Well I was thinking about him a lot one day. I had quit going to see him some time before. I really liked him a lot, but I started to feel like I had to pay him to associate with me. It sorta hurt my feelings, but he hadn’t done anything to make that happen, he’d been nothing but great to me. I just didn’t want to be his fan or his student only, but his friend. There wasn’t really the situation for that, is all.

I loved his brother deeply, far too much for decency given we were only friends frankly, so I gave him some slack just by virtue of being related to my best friend. But I was sad that on some level, he felt untouchable to me. He was a nice guy, a super smart and talented guy, loved his wife and kids, but you could almost feel the ‘wall of reserve’ around him, that invisible psychic buffer zone that P/As carry with them always. So I’d wandered off, and not seen him in some time.

I wondered why life turns out the way it does. I wondered if it was a bad thing that he’d given up college and a whole lifestyle to instead go play guitar and not really go anywhere with it. I wondered if that qualified as throwing his life away, or if maybe there was some other obscure reason why in the end, it might all be for the best. I couldn’t really think of one frankly. But I mused on this off and on all day one day.

And then that night while sitting quietly, I fell into one of the odd “linear, interactive visions” that I had more commonly in those days than now.

It was another world, another life, a not-quite-parallel universe, you might say.

***

I was sitting on the perfect lawn, picking the grass that intruded on the edges of the marble gravestone set flush into the ground. I sat here every day, afternoons after school. I tried to cry sometimes, but usually couldn’t… not really. I just felt empty, passively angry and more than a little numb.

I felt like everything in my world that made sense had departed when dad died. My life of optimistic faith in how everything would be alright, was as inaccessible as my father, six feet under where I sat. There was no sense to it, no reason. He was just gone, dead for over a year, and I felt like my life, my mom’s life, my brother’s life, had meandered over to a depressing, dismal shade of purgatory.

Mom, who’d been such a cheerful part-time nurse’s aid when dad was alive, had gained too much weight. She was chronically exhausted, and looked so unhappy. The lines on her face and her look of bone-weariness and lonely resignation broke my heart anew every day.

And my brother, the sports hero, the good-grades good-boy I couldn’t begin to compete with, yet worshipped my whole life, had changed, first a little and then gradually far moreso. Eventually his grades had fallen, he’d quit the teams, and he’d taken up guitar and started hanging out with a different kind of people. Now instead of his handsome face in neatly cut hair and letterman’s sweater, he had long shaggy hair and a black rock & roll t-shirt most the time. He was still smart, with his bright eyes and pirate’s smile, but now he was droll, sarcastic and even biting. His songwriting reflected the deep turmoil inside him.

We had no money now. Mom worked way too much and we were still poor. Our yard was overgrown. Our screen door was hanging by a single hinge and banged against the door in wind. Weeds grew up the edges of the porch steps. Our house, like our clothing, like our lives and our hopes, was wearing out, too demoralized by the gaping hole in our middles to even pretend to be cheerful. Dad was the center of everything. I don’t think we’d ever realized this until suddenly he was dead, and there we were. Zombies in hell, pretending that life wasn’t irreparable, that it would be better someday.

I thought about the day before. I’d gone to see my brother, who worked at a small hardware store. There was a round low counter, and he’d been joking with some customers when I came in. I watched him there, his wicked white smile, his eyes of pain and light, his grungy concert shirt, his “intensity”, and I felt such love for him, and yet such grief. Dad’s death had destroyed us, I felt. My brother was the shining one. I would have given my own life to see him truly happy, my hero since I was four years old. But he wasn’t, he was filled with that pain, that rage, that “inner-driven” quality he’d taken on since dad’s death, and there was nothing I could do about it.

Nothing. I could do nothing.

Somehow, after months off and on of visiting the graveyard on the way home from school every day, for the first time I actually had the sense of my father’s presence. It shook me a little, and moved me.

I whispered out loud: “Daddy.”

And that was it: it all broke through, and I started crying, bawling with such long deep sobs it was like dredging the pain up from the cosmic depths of soul. I yelled at him. “Why did you leave us? Our lives SUCK without you!” I screamed in rage, pounding my fists on the grass. I finally found myself lying on my face on the headstone, crying with such body-shaking grief that eventually I couldn’t breathe.

I finally relaxed into occasional sobs and long sighs. I rested my head on one arm, and idly bent the blades of grass nearest my eyes, thoughtless and exhausted, yet somehow freed from the inability to grieve I’d had for so long.

It was a gradual realization, so subtle, that someone’s hand was on my shoulder. I sat up, and turned toward that, and my hands fell uselessly to my sides as I stared at him, wordless. My father sat next to me, his hand on my shoulder, looking so much like… well, like himself, that it was all I could do not to start crying again. I wondered if he was real. Maybe I was hallucinating.

“Are you real?” I whispered.

“For a little while,” he whispered back with a smile.

“Why did you leave?” I demanded.

“It was the way it is,” he said, as if that made sense.

“Everything is so BAD now!” I accused him, starting to sob again.

“Things are as they should be,” he said gently.

I stared at him, in surprise and anger.

“How can you SAY that?!” I demanded. “Why? WHY?”

He watched me watch him, as I cried silently but copiously, barely seeing his blurring image through my tears. And then he said softly, “Do you really want to know why?”

I nodded silently yes.

He stood up, and held out his hand, and I took it and stood, and we began to walk. Toward home, which was a block away and around the corner. I didn’t know what he meant, but I wanted my mom and brother to see him. I wanted him to tell all of us that it was alright. Even though it couldn’t possibly be.

We turned the corner and I stared quietly at the house as we approached it. It had been freshly painted. The weeds around the steps were gone. The lawn was lovely. The screen was fixed. It looked rather like it had before dad had died, in fact. I stared at him curiously but silently. Had he magically made everything alright? I thought I was bringing home a rather solid ghost, but how could that change my house?

We went up the stairs and into the house. It was different inside, too. Things were nicer. It was cleaner. And it just… felt better, somehow. It felt like a house where normal people live. Not like a mausoleum.

Mom came bustling out of the back room. She was supposed to be at work. But she was home–and she was thin again. Her face looked years younger, and I hadn’t seen her look that rested and happy since–well, since before dad had died. I stared at her open-mouthed, my heart feeling an actual pain, like seeing her how she had been, so happy, so loving, was killing me.

They kissed and talked of trivial things as he followed her into the kitchen. I watched them go, falling into an armchair feeling like things were a bit surreal, and it beginning to dawn on me that for mom, obviously, he had never left.

Maybe I had cried myself to death and this was my heaven: a world where mom was healthy and happy and dad was still alive.

Something felt wrong, though. Not like a bad thing, just like… something out of place. Something was missing from mom. I wasn’t sure what.

I heard the slam of a door on a truck, and through the window I watched my brother walk around to the other side of a beautiful black pickup. He looked like I dreamed he would, if things had gone on as they had been instead of our father dying. He opened the door and a girl climbed out, a lovely girl I didn’t know but who seemed to be his girlfriend.

They came into the house, dad and mom coming out of the kitchen at the same time. As they used to do, he and dad touched fists and then shook hands in a street handshake and a loving exchanged smile. That was before my brother became a rebel angry at the world. I watched him, feeling like I was in a little bit of shock. He had on nice clothes, and a sweater tied around his shoulders. He looked like a member of the yacht club now, with his clean-cut hair and macho grace.

He and dad stood and talked about his truck, and I watched him. He looked happier, for certain. Content. His face was much fuller, softer, and he had that comfortable ease with the world he used to have. The ease of a boy with paid college, a truck and a girlfriend and Friday night football… not that thinner young man of angry rebel-rock screamed in grungy little clubs and garages and basements.

I tuned into their conversation again, realizing he was in college now, not working the hardware store. Wow was his life different. Mom came back into the room and hugged him, and he talked about his girlfriend and their engagement. He grinned at me and I smiled back, feeling a little bewildered still.

It dawned on me slowly, but deeply.

He was happier, but it wasn’t him.
Mom was happier, but it wasn’t her.

It wasn’t just that their quiet desperation, their grief and loneliness, had vanished. It was that they had never been. And they were both… less deep, as a result. Less… intense, for sure, in my brother’s case, but I suspected in both. It was as if they’d been “simplified” somehow.

As if pain had made them both more alive.

Had forced them to ‘feel’ in ways they never had.

And in some respects, had made them more of the human beings that they had the potential to be, than they would have been, could have been, with dad there.

They might not be happier or healthier. The things we normally consider important, those were definitely worse without him. But some ineffable quality, some “spark of spirit”, some survival-skill inspired, pain-generated lighthouse of inner life had never been forced to grow in them.

And their souls were less for it. I could see it. I could feel it. That was the sense of wrongness. It was a sort of . . . “development” that they’d been deprived of. My brother and his girlfriend said goodbye and left, and mom kissed dad goodbye as she went off somewhere as well, and dad and I were left alone in the house.

He knelt in front of the chair I sat in, and looked at me with compassion. I had a couple of slow tears on my face. I understood, but almost wished I didn’t. I accepted his death now, for the first time, although I kind of hated that I did. I wondered if there was some equivalent in me, that I couldn’t see. Something that the void of him in my life had forced me to reach down into and pull out of my soul for survival.

He held out his hand, and I took it and stood, and we walked, hand in hand. Down the porch stairs, across the nice lawn, around the corner. Down the block, and into the small graveyard that I had visited too many times to count since his death. We walked slowly to his grave, and stood next to it, looking down at it, his hand holding mine.

I looked up at him beside me, my tears gone. I felt ok now. Although I felt a new kind of grief I didn’t fully understand, the keen sharp edge on the old grief was dull now, and it felt like something known for too long, something I could live with. I gazed at him with gratitude, and understanding, and the odd feeling that in that moment we were more equals-in-soul than we had ever been.

And he leaned down and tenderly kissed my forehead, and turned away, and faded in a few steps to gone.

I stood there for awhile, just looking down at the stone with his name. Then I slowly turned, and in the waning light toward dusk, I walked home alone.

I rounded the corner and eyed the weeds growing over the edge of our porch steps. The shabby paint on the railings of the porch. The listlessly hanging screen door. This was my life now, I realized. Not just a life missing dad, but a life that was mine to do with, to be with, to feel with. In its own way, every experience opens doorways to parts of ourselves we have never known, parts we choose to know, no matter how the surface of that decision is hard to understand.

I climbed the stairs, thinking. I should fix that screen for mom.

***

When I came out of that vision, or unusually-linear-dream-while-awake, whatever it was, I felt as if my day of thoughtfulness had basically been answered. I call it a “sit-in”, when it seems I am part of someone else’s life for awhile. Some other aspect of me, who knows. I had wondered, genuinely. I’d been answered.

We are who we choose to be. Our experiences help shape who we need to be. The shallow surface measures of beauty, money, and a life of ease, have nothing to do with the needs of our soul.

Tom, like my brother, needed his guitar.

PJ

The other night (morning, actually), I was dreaming.

Upon a really tall hill, stood this big structure. Sort of a house, in a way. I went to the structure and found it had three stories to it. I went to the third story and found that it was open inside and had three stories within itself, as well. I went to the third story of the third story and walked around.

There were people there, some seemed oblivious to everything, others seemed to know each other. The moment I arrived, though, I understood that I was one of four who had come to meet in this place. The odd thing is that it wasn’t my normal “Four elementals of soul” symbology — if it was, they were all certainly very different than I normally perceive them. Or perhaps this was ‘grafted on’. Who knows.

There was a man, who was very quiet. Not quite sullen, but the kind of quiet that is not really peaceful and you’d be reluctant to disturb. He was in his 40s or 50s I guessed, and wearing a suit. The sort of man who seems always uncomfortable in his clothes. I understood that he was ridiculously, almost monstrously, psychic, and that was his ‘role’ almost like an unspoken job in our world.

There was a woman, who looked like someone’s grandmother. In her late 50s or early 60s I guessed, she was just a few pounds overweight and wearing a flowered dress with a kind face. She looked like she ought to be making cookies for someone in the south. But she was also incredibly powerful, psychically, the reason she was part of the four.

My friend J was there as well. But he was only half there; his attention was split. We “all understood” that this was necessary, because his other half was off negotiating with the leader of some arabic country in an attempt to keep the peace for another few minutes. He is certainly pretty powerfully psychic, and he was of the four.

And then there was me. I wondered what I was doing there. It felt appropriate that I was one of the four and yet, it was really obvious why THEY were there and meeting; and yet who the hell am I, I’m just restarting viewing after eons out, I’m a psychic brick, I’d be lucky to view my way to my own front door with my eyes open, it’s pitiful how painful it is when I restart after a long time away from it. I decided with some depressive cynicism that maybe I really didn’t need to be in on this group meeting all things considered, and I wandered down to the second floor and was walking around looking at things and talking to people.

Then the woman thought at me that I was to come back up to the third story of the third story where they were, with a bit of a tone in her thought as if I were a rather wandering-attention child or something; I knew why we were there, and where I was supposed to be, so why was I wandering all over the place?

I returned to that level, going near her, but pointed out, well I don’t see why you need me here. You guys are the cornerstone monster psychics of my country or world apparently, but I’m obviously not.

And she says/thinks, with this sort of … not patronizing in a bad way, but in an observant and weary way, “Well yes, we understand that you continue to deny and avoid this, but we trust that eventually you will take responsibility for yourself and accept that.” It came with the overlay of ‘destiny’. Her tone of thought was almost like a disapproving grandmother. Not angry, not really judgemental, but not willing to pretend, because you clearly aren’t living up to her expectations, either.

Then we all sort of merged psychically so our thoughts were shared.

There were two important things we had to meet about. One I cannot recall. In my memory I could swear it was about a movie, or some kind of video, which had information which ‘gave something away’ to the public in such a way that it literally changed the dominant consciousness of enough population to affect “probability” fairly radically. Alas I don’t remember more than that.

The other was about a man. Now, the man in the suit had found him first; the woman had found him second; but they’d both done so independently. The man in the suit had actually figured out his name, though he didn’t share it. We all four considered the situation.

The man was a messiah. Basically a ‘larger, more intense dose of god within a human body’ is about the only way I can put it. And he was… coming. I couldn’t tell if he had already been born or if he was just coming soon, but it was “soon” either way, whatever his status or age might be.

His presence was going to cause a highly significant change in the population’s awareness, which affected future probability significantly. It was like a wildcard, as futurology calls them. We were looking at a possibly profound shift in our people, nation, and world, as a result of this man’s presence.

I had a sort of overlay of Jesus, but not from the others, just from my own association with the concept of a messiah. It wasn’t like it was the same person. But it was, actually, like much of the same energy flowing through a different person, so in a way, it was the same. I understood that in terms of a highly specific individual whose presence here (directly or indirectly) could change the course of history, it was his third coming to our place. It had been a long time since the last time and longer still since the first.

And then my alarm went off and woke me up. I felt like I had to drag myself out from under the sea to get to it.

PJ

Archived from the former firedocs blog. 31 March 2006

Kind of like ‘psychic’ politics but specific to dreams, I guess.

Following on my syndication of the Hair-Like Wire Brain Implant dreams, I had a dream today I think is a repeat of a few lately as well but this is the first time I’ve gotten fully clear on it.

In the dream, there are a small group of people who are attempting to learn more about me and manipulate me. Most are men but at least one is female. A ‘lead’ male attempts to get my attention and present something to me, usually something kind of dumb like he is trying to distract me, like to sell me something.

While he’s doing that, the other people are subtly sneaking around me, attempting to look all over and get behind me. I usually realize what the man is doing and sharply demand he move, and I move, so that I have them all in my range of sight.

Then I manage to get rid of them, all but the female who will be across the way acting as if she’s uninvolved and minding her own business (but really, she is part of their team). I go over to her and I tell her look, I am more open minded and flexible than most people give me credit for; I can let more slide than most people; but I cannot and will not abide anybody being dishonest with me or attempting to control me. That will not get the result desired, I assure you of it. This approach is not the right approach to be taking with me — at all. And she nods understanding and leaves and then I wake up.

So I’m thinking, this is such paranoia for a dream — I am not normally paranoid in my dreams but since this series is following the weird dreams I noted a few days ago (see 03/27/06 entry), I’m wondering if it’s related. What would make me paranoid? My life is fine right now. Nothing of relevance going on frankly. Some friends and family have health problems from minor to mortal or verging on it; that’s a bit of a recurrence in any adult’s life. Kid is ok in school, in karate. All 8 cats seem healthy and onry as ever. Husband is in a good mood with Spring and the gardening starting up again. All in all, life is just totally normal here in nowhere Oklahoma. So why the paranoid dreams?

Who knows. I mention them because I believe that recording anomalous things is good for posterity, for seeing one’s own psyche curve.

And because in my opinion I am one of the few people in the remote viewing field who are (at least via internet) in a position to influence many others, and most the others in that position are Stark Raving Nuts frankly. So if I should go completely around the bend at some point, I want it documented for the good of other sane viewers what it is that took me there.

Archived from the former firedocs blog. 27 March 2006

John Lilly was nowhere to be found. I didn’t see any dolphins, either. I had not taken any drug. (Not like this has ever been required for me to have weird dreams and weirder conscious “anomalous” experiences, of course.) And despite my love of computers, the Solid State Entities were not telling me their plans for gradually taking over our reality. All in all, it was a normal night with fairly normal dreams.

Except it was this dream I’ve had more than once, back again lately in syndicated reruns. Oh brother. I never know if this means it’s just some archetypal symbol recurring, something real still going on, something ‘astral’ I am interpreting in an analogy, or some run of the mill psychological garbage resulting from insufficient sleep and forgetting to feed the cat… or whatever.

In the dream, I am watching a person (just ‘a’ person) who seems like they are operating normally except somehow I ‘know’ that this is not how they would ‘really’ operate if they were not under the influence of someone. But I can’t see any sign of anybody else. And they seem really oblivious to this influence.

I call that in-sanity, and when we’re talking together we’re in out-sanity. And you should never try to express all of your in-sanity in the out-sanity, or they’ll lock you up. –John Lilly

Then there’ll be this closeup, and I am looking at their scalp. In their hair are these little tiny gray hairs, except they are real short, just barely sticking out of the scalp, and they blend in with all the other hair and aren’t noticeable. And something about them draws my attention and then I realize that they are not hairs, they are wires, they are just incredibly thin like a strong but soft hair.

That’s all. Then I wake up. And of course when I do, I think of the autobiography of Dr. John Lilly, the famous scientist who according to his book, developed a rudimentary form of mind control using small wires implanted directly through the scalp into regions of the brain. This was many decades ago. The government was nuts about the idea and he was promptly excluded from meetings about his own research by military; he didn’t have the ‘clearance’.

He moved on to dolphins, as they have bigger brains (and don’t have to sign consent waivers!). But in doing so he discovered/decided that dolphins were actually more intelligent than we are, just in a different way, and many other things. Here’s an OMNI interview and a Dr. Jeffrey Mishlove interview with Dr. Lilly where he talks about the entities, the dolphins, “Vitamin K”, multiple realities and some of the brain research.

When something occurs with me I don’t understand, my coping mechanism is always to attempt to put it in a “framework” of a psychological case study. That way, everything can be “interesting” and it does not matter what something ‘is’, whether it is factual or hallucination or misinterpretation, what it means, etc. It’s like an artistic foreign movie: you just watch it and, since you don’t understand all of it, you simply accept whatever it seems to be, without making many assumptions.

So I’m asking myself, what would sponsor me having several dreams very specific to this? OK… I am 40… now and then, I get a gray hair. But these do not seem correlated with my noticing them so I don’t really think that is related. Probably just some mild paranoia? neurosis? astral-suspicion? — doing the hula through my nightly meanderings. But why. Sheesh.

Archived from the former firedocs blog. 07 December 2005

I was reading in my dream. It was a thin column of fully justified (straight on each side) text. It was a newspaper presentation. I was in the midst of reading the column which was about the fairly recent event of a young college man who, for reasons unknown, attempted to blow himself up in a stadium with 80,000 people at a sports event, but instead blew himself up outside it. [Note: I've seen a couple references to this online, but don't read newspapers.] As I was reading along, suddenly a yellow highlighter came in and highlighted the text I was reading, emphasizing the last part of a sentence. The article continued, with more text below, but the instant I finished reading the highlighted text, “my body woke me up” with that specific highlighted sentence in my head as a concept and in my memory as a visual.

The text looked like this:

…and something here and something here and something here and something here and the bomb exploded, having been triggered by the wireless detonator. And something here and something here and something here and something here and something here and…

So my body wass instantly awake and alert, aware of what I read, and my conscious mind says (4:47am for godssakes!), “So?!”

Who cares? What does it matter? He blew himself up, we know. And then it occurs to me: the wireless detonator.

It might have been him but my sense suddenly was: someone else triggered it. Not him. Someone else had a detonator, he was not working alone, and they were relatively near him.

The story (now that confusion has at least in part subsided) goes that the college kid did it for reasons unknown. (See map, thanks zombie) . Three blocks away is a mosque which is linked to a student association of Islam; the kid had various islamic materials and bombmaking materials in his own part of the room, but that is considered an incredible, unrelated coincidence (to the fact that islamic persons are infamous for blowing themselves up and trying to take others with them). A couple of kids said they had seen him go to the mosque (a few blocks away) but as the officials of the mosque, after the event, said “Neverseenhimbeforeinourlives” or something like that, police say they aren’t sure.

OK, so a few blocks away from his apartment is the mosque and then farther away is the sports arena. He tried to get in, but wouldn’t let his backpack be searched, and so he went around to the opposite side of the arena and tried to get in that doorway instead (gate 6). Again they insisted on searching his backpack, he refused and left. Arena security reported that a man refusing to be searched was seen sprinting away from gate 6 with a backpack, and KABOOM! a minute later he blows up.

His understandably upset family suggests that he was simply temporarily despondent and committed suicide. Riiiiiight. I know every time I feel temporarily despondent, I begin building shrapnel bombs to put in a backpack and take into sports arenas filled with tens of thousands of people, don’t you?

It is possible that he set off the bomb intentionally or unintentionally. It is also possible that someone else participated in the construction and had their own detonator, just in case he got cold feet or something, or worse, seemed about to get caught.

I was not thinking about this subject yesterday or when I went to bed last night. It is out of the blue, although I did read about it a few days ago. Yet another in my current series of ‘terrorism related dreams’, in my opinion. I’m thinking I would have better sleeping habits if these could wake me up at say, 7am, instead of 4-something…

Archived from the former firedocs blog. 01 December 2005

I don’t just dream in color, I dream in multimedia.

A map of the USA was shown me. Starting at NW, a light swooshing-shape began to travel downward, and curved around the bottom, across the lower continent, and up the right side to the NE. My sense was that this was something natural. Weather, magnetics, I’m not sure, but something native to the planet.

Then it was shown me again, and starting at the NW around WA, a dark-shaded area suddenly showed up as the pattern reached a certain place, and at the same time, a bell went *ding!* I recognized this as the site of a terrorist attack which had previously happened (in the dream’s-world). The swooshing motion-shape continued on its path, and when it reached the area of N CA or so, another *ding!* occurred and a big shaded area appeared; it was very large, these shaded areas, they were “the overall areas affected,” not just the place something happened.

The pattern continued from there and down by mid-Southern CA another *ding!* and a really big shaded area popped in and it spread a bit above and below and to the sides (suggesting that although it happened in one place, it had a big effect on a wide region around). The natural pattern turned and flowed along the bottom area of the continent, with another *ding!* sound and a big shaded area filled much of Texas and spread out on each side. Again, I understood that there was only one small focus area but I was being shown what amount to the “primary social and economic impact areas” in this map-shading example. The pattern continued and near the bottom right, not sure precisely where, another *ding!* and another shaded area popped up.

At this point there was a thick, nearly solid (irregularly shaped/wavy) shading from NW Canadian border all the way ’swooping down and around’ to just above the top of FL or so. The ‘natural’ pattern continued up the right but there were no more of the dings or shading, and the pattern finished its route up to the NE Canadian border without event and stopped.

I realized that I was watching a Flash web presentation and that what was being shown me was that there was a sort of pattern in where the major terrorist events had happened–and, in where they would happen, as well, which was seen by ‘what was left’ of the pattern it was following.

I had this huge emotional response, a sort of horrified joy that someone had “figured out the pattern” of the attacks, and then a sort of horrified dread, realizing that there were more attacks to come which would affect the East coast. In the dream there was a sense that despite all that had already happened, I realized I had been living in the denial-hope that maybe there would be no more. This made me realize there would be more such events, and I had horror and grieving and fear and anger and astonishment all at the same time.

The emotion of the dream was incredibly powerful. In the dream I started yelling for Lu to come quickly and to see what I’d found, and I was so upset I half woke myself up, and then noise from outside brought me fully awake.

When I woke up for real I was still sort of upset about it. I didn’t know if this was showing me the future, or if I am just neurotic and somewhere in the back of my mind I’d been thinking about it.

Update: The next day (12/1) I dreamed of the same subject. The details seemed important when I awoke–but I forgot them too quickly to get them written down. One thing I remember from the dream though, was about me, not the data; I remembered having dreamed of the subject the day before, and I wondered why I was suddenly dreaming about this subject. And a voice told me that although I was not in the direct path of these events, still I perceived them as a direct threat to me and my reality, and so I was picking up psychic information about them as a sort of survival-skill overlap so to speak.

the pattern does not seem all that logical though to be honest. I mean it doesn’t seem unusual of course — WA, N CA, S CA, TX, the SE, and more are actually high density and high economic areas and likely to be targets. But I would expect, intellectually, events to occur up in the North near the Great Lakes areas, and oddly enough the north and midwest weren’t shown as taking a hit at least in the dream. So I don’t consider the dream likely to be precognitive. Might be just the ’sitting in on’ an aspect living in a situation the back of my mind must be chewing on as a side-effect of my political blogging or something.

Archived from the former firedocs blog. 04 September 2005

Sewing (sowing?) the thread of truth. That’s my job if I want to hold the line.

Last night I chanced on web pages about Sean David Morton. He is one of those people who gets on Art Bell and other media by claiming… many things. Actually the stuff he says is quite funny when seen in quantity. The pages went through his claims one by one, with info on contacts and attempts to research each item. As it turns out, the man is a pathological liar. Like most PL’s, he believes whatever he says, making him utterly sincere, which confuses most people. That wasn’t what bothered me. What bothered me was, it had an incredibly similar feel to the Ed Dames pathological lying media personality that Art Bell and others have promoted so well.

The parallel was striking. Did the mind of these men get distorted in the same experimental lab? By the same entities? Is it something in the water?

Tremendous confusion, disillusion, deception and damage get created in the UFOlogy field—and the remote viewing field—by such identities. Is it on purpose? If not on their part, on someone else’s? Is there something inherently threatening about these fields that would cause some organized effort to mislead—one that might be so intense that it might also utilize—or even modify existing potentials to create—such people?

I am not generally given to conspiracy theory or paranoia. I believe the bureacracy of incompetence creates most problems that look so stupid from the outside that organized intent is often assumed instead. And I believe that people are what they choose to be, that many choose to be dishonest, and that fields like UFOlogy and Remote Viewing draw more than their share of the psychologically distorted.

It’s been my observation over the last two decades that due to experience in either field causing change in really fundamental, foundational belief systems, both areas have the potential to be psychologically destabilizing. A small percentage of people probably have the ability to focus in that area consistently and not be harmed by it. This is not as big a problem as it sounds, as the vast majority of people displaying initial interest (subconsciously reacting to that I suppose) drop the subject and wander off. There is a small number of people “totally into” these “niche” interests. Most persons are at best hobbyists and readers; they are merely entertained.

Anyway. I went to sleep after that and had a striking, very linear sort of dream.

I was sitting in a room at a table with half a dozen nuns. One was clearly in charge. We were discussing this issue. One of the understandings I got was that the more somebody talked, the more difficult it is for them to (and the more unlikely it is that they can) “hold the feel of truth.” In the dream I could feel this like an actual energy that went through the chakras of my body and connected, grounded deep and solidly into the earth. The more one thought before speaking, and “felt inside themselves” to “find the thread of truth” first, the more familiar they got with the feel (of truth). I realized that a couple of the nuns hardly spoke if at all, and that they had some profound understanding of these concepts, as a result of this silent experience.

It was shown me that the more out of balance certain energies are, the more a person will talk, the less ‘truth’ will be in it, and over time, the less they are able to feel truth and what is not (until, at the more extreme cases, they lose all ability to distinguish). This problem energy is felt in the body, not just some metaphysical plane, though our culture hasn’t recognition of it or words for it. This lack of balance causes a great need for the person to ‘express’. Not only that, but the more ‘attention’ they can get from others to take in their energy, the more they can disperse, so they are drawn not only to talking but to as many as possible. It is like they are pulling in a stream of energy that is not good for them, has no resonance with their body or spirit really, and so they subconsciously have a terrible need to vent it, to find a source willing to take it in, to get it through and out of them.

This is done with talk. It can be done in other forms.

I tuned back into the questions that brought the dream on. The nuns and I, like a group lesson/exploration, ‘experienced’ how people like this are just … well, they are ill. This… problem is as much a spiritual (and psychological and even slightly physical) illness as a bleeding wound or viral infection would be. In most cases the condition is an accidental thing they themselves gradually brought on over the course of their lives, by never bothering to care much about truth vs. the need for attention. (I felt as a “subthought” that the need for attention was one of the primary causes of untruth, that the truth is a maintaining energy [hard to phrase this; you might say 'it feeds you'], that the more lack-of-truth one has, the more one ‘needs’ energy from others, and hence needs ‘attention’ from others [they 'pay' attention, as the Narrator once put it] and hence this became sort of a cycle/spiral.)

No conspiracies were necessary, I saw. My wondering about that was misled. Not that there aren’t any conspiracies, simply that pathological lying is its own problem aside from that. It was natural that people with such problems would be drawn to the UFO/RV fields and drawn to seek media exposure.

I started talking then. I could feel the shift of energy inside me. I realized (in the dream) that if I conserved my words to only speak the truth, I would feel again—as I have many times before—the clear sense that there is really very little to say.

I think that is why, when being “intuitive,” I often have the weird need to pull in lots of sounds I have to find words for. This makes any given sentence impossibly long (and seemingly, more metaphysical and less specific). It is like I am trying to find the right shape. Like I cannot change what I have to begin with, as I am using English. But I can “feel” it isn’t right. So I have to add in enough other ingredients (sound-shapes) to change the overall product. So the meaning of the shape of the sound, better matches the meaning of the words in our language.

We practiced back and forth. I found that if I really delved into myself to find the utter-truth, the most profound energy of that, that I became less and less willing to speak at all. It was like, the more attuned I was to truth in a spiritual sense, the more I felt that general conversation did not—could not—touch it.

It had not occurred to me before that maybe this is not a polarity-thing; maybe things are not just ‘truth vs. lies’. Apparently there is an entire… ‘existence’ which is not a ‘lie’ per se, but is not truth, either. It is more like, “not applicable.” As if, our world is illusion, but it floats on the surface of truth and has some points in common. Some things, you can ‘dive below’ and feel the truth and pull it up ‘through’ our world. Truth has incredible power here, actually. (If it doesn’t seem like it, I suspect it’s more a matter of there being so little of it, rather than it not having immense power.) Most the conversations about our world itself (daily conversation) is not a truth. That doesn’t make them a lie. It is more like, they are unrelated to real-truth because the logical stuff is entirely based in the floating illusion we live in.

Truth, in this case, is not just an issue of whether the surface-meaning of a word fits a situation in our world. It is almost as if there really should be two different words involved here because there are two very different concepts. Like the eskimos and all their words for snow, we have only one word for ‘truth’. That is partly because intellectually we have failed to articulate—perhaps because spiritually, most of us have failed to notice—the profound difference.

There is what we call truth in our surface world, meaning, it is not a deliberate or even accidental inaccuracy about this-world’s situations. But there is another thing, an energy which is “of the spirit” I suspect is how the nuns would describe it—it is like the fundamental energy-cloth, the fundamental fabric of our universe, which we can use as part of ourselves, for our constant creation. (It is the energy of Creation itself, with a capital C, I suddenly feel. When we create with truth running through us and our creations, it is a very powerful, primal thing.)

This has literally nothing to do with the surface-chatter about our reality that we live in the soup of most the time. “It is raining,” or “I went to the store,” these are not lies, but they are not of the energy of ‘truth’ that is of the spirit, either. They are simply surface discussion that are not intellectually-linearly inaccurate.

It is not that one cannot have casual conversation. It’s that one must be aware that this is what it is; one must have sufficient ‘truth’ energy within them that the constant barrage of “surface trivia” that is not-truth (though it is not-lie, simply not-applicable) doesn’t pull one away from intimate familiarity with ‘the feel of truth’.

By expressing my energy in a way that was surface and separate from truth (not a lie; just… “idle chatter”), I moved farther and farther from the feel of it; from the thread of it running through me. Throwing in some exaggerations and more, I finally lost it altogether. The more I realized that, and realized the nuns were watching how I learned from this, the more I tried to justify and explain myself—intellectually alas, not by “feel”—to the nuns, especially the woman in charge.

I noticed that when I truly “lost the feel of truth,” that I got a lot more intellectual all the sudden, even downright technical, as if this were an overcompensation. I tried ever-harder with “specific LOGICAL detail,” like a tool, never alas achieving the feeling of ‘truth’ with it that subconsciously I was aiming for and felt it would obtain.

Our conscious minds think that accuracy is truth. Accuracy relates to surface-details and our interactions. Truth in a spiritual sense is something that there is no other word to define; it simply IS. There is no…. how do I articulate this… there is no accuracy or inaccuracy concerning real Truth (with a capital T). Truth simply IS in the most profound and fundamental way. Nothing can be said about it at all, because all the words we have are but shallow surface reflections.

That reminds me of something. Wonder if it’s related. O Nuit, continuous one of Heaven, let it be ever thus; that men speak not of Thee as One but as None; and let them speak not of thee at all, since thou art continuous! — Liber al vel Legis

At a slight signal from her they all got up from the table, and quietly walked away from me. I followed them as we went down a hallway, with them continuing away from me. I sort of understood at that point, that it was my conscious wondering about truth that brought us into contact. They are, you might say, experts on this subject. Many in their order do not speak at all.

The dream changed. I found myself with two individuals I used to work with, both of whom were extremely untruthful as personalities, though I liked them. They were going to give me a ride home. I realized this was the real lesson: if I could not “hold the line” of truth well enough, those within that energy would not associate with me, as they would quite literally have nothing in common with me. Those who were themselves living in some rebound, refractive non-truth, would be drawn to me like kindred spirits. I remembered the “birds of a feather” saying and how it has always seemed quite valid to me.

I considered how many people I cannot associate with because there simply is no ‘connect’ between us; I feel they have no connection to whatever truth I hold. It is as if they are “not applicable” to my reality. Then I considered how often I feel the issue with J, almost from the other side; he seems to have a… maybe a larger experience of truth, much of which I have no comprehension of. He couldn’t tell me about it if he wanted to; words can’t convey this. People either have it running through them, and understand because it is part of them, or they don’t. All education is internal in this regard and can’t be given on the surface to others.

I realized that I need to pay more attention in my daily life to talking less, and thinking more. To pause before answering. To FEEL inside myself: “What is the truth, and the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?” before speaking, or writing.

Interesting, the part about the nuns. Do they actually do that “vow of silence” thing in today’s day and age?

I’m not catholic. The closest I’ve ever come to any nuns is perhaps passing them in a shopping mall or something.

This is long and boring and not that interesting so if you’re busy, wander on. ;-)

About a year and a half ago, my Senior PM team at work was broken up by a major corporate/multi-company restructuring. Our semi-executive boss got ‘laid off’ and promptly rehired as a consultant making even more but for a different company name yet in the same general group of people, go figure. One of my coworkers went to a different part of the company to manage the tech he’d been the “main” one working on, one left, two went to a different division, and since I was the “main” one working on a semi-new product line we’d been developing that had sold so well it was becoming a company standard, I got moved with the product line into the production department, so it could be standardized.

For those of you who aren’t business freaks, what this means is that one day I was doing a job that required brains and creativity and some tech knowledge, and that had a lot of flexibility for things regularly changing, and the next day somehow the allegedly same job was a “widget” job, where a standardized product with known parameters is made the same way over and over again, and I “managed” the vendors that were the lowest bidder and the editorial people who haven’t yet run screaming from the position of providing you content for it. I do my best to make the role one of “facilitator” and not “red tape”, as I’m anti-bureaucracy in a big way, but the fact is, solely by accident and just-the-way-things-go, it was a demotion.

I also lost a good chunk of pay with it, because they weren’t willing to keep my contractor status, and instead insisted I become an employee, and a ‘project manager’ role in ‘production’ pays less than a ’senior project and product manager’ role working on what we called ‘the A-team’ under the senior VP. The fact that part of the salary was based not on the job but on my college (which is minimal) and “the economy at my location” (in the poorest county of the poorest state in the nation, last I heard!) did not help.

Suffice to say I was kinda pissed off about this turn of events.

But I work from home in nowhere, Oklahoma, where the only local jobs are Wal*mart, fast food and a few doctor’s offices. Being unemployed in this area nearly makes me hyperventilate just thinking about it. And because I am FAT, something with more deeply ingrained cultural prejudice than being a black lesbian satanist with blue hair would probably invoke, walking into another job is not really that easy. I’ve always gone from one job to another based on contacts I already knew, and usually took jobs because someone literally asked me to (often pleaded with me to), not because I was applying for the position. I no longer fit in the cute little Vanderbilt suits and pumps I used to wear, which is not only a disaster for my fashion life, but a real problem for first-impressions and new jobs. So I was forced to be terribly grateful for the job I had, no matter that it was now something I was over-qualified to do over 20 years ago, and that greatly ignored a whole spectrum of talent/skill benefits I can offer employers.

Hard as it was to imagine, the situation was even worse, though. One of the managers that my team (especially my boss) had really kind of avoided and rolled our eyes about, became MY BOSS.

That’s right. GAH. And frankly, it was just as I feared. Her ’style’ (I say to be polite) meant I did the same work three times on at least a dozen occasions early on, and usually when I had the least time. I constantly had the urge to suggest training or explain (read: lecture) to her about some basic, only to remember that she was MY boss not the other way around.

I’ve been in management pretty much all my adult life, usually working directly for a CEO, or a Sr. VP at least, often without a title off and on as a troubleshooter/PM, in between sliding into various mgmt roles usually to set up a new dept., arrange training, or solve some problem. Suddenly, I was… I can hardly say it…

A NUMBER.

I was one of a bazillion employees of a company that recently sold for just under 8 BILLION dollars. I worked for someone half my age (a situation I’d always been in, in reverse–usually I was the young one without a degree managing people twice my age with MBAs, so I understood her position), and she didn’t know much about me, didn’t want to know, and greatly preferred people working at her location not from across the country.

I would do work, and then do it again and yet again when it turned out she hadn’t provided enough info up front–as if it were some secret need to know kind of thing–in such a way that it sponsored “mindless obedience” instead of any independent thought, because ‘thinking’ when someone is withholding context is likely to be more harm than help. Then I would do work, and then do it again and yet again when it turned out the report I spent 14 hours working on, based on her original I had to radically update with my info per her own request, I’d send it to her, after which she’d send HER original–not my revised version–to someone else, then send THEIR revisions to me to ‘update’ with my info ’cause gosh, guess we need to integrate these… this happened repeatedly. I wanted to scream. I wanted to stick pins in a little PJs-Boss-Voodoo-Doll.

Then there was communication. Mostly email. I would ask a question and get no response. I would ask it again and get a response that didn’t even address my question. I’d ask it again, to clarify, and get a response that basically just restated what was obvious I already knew based on the question in the first place. She was incapable of hearing what I *said*; she was so “inferred” a communicator, that if you said, “Boss, the sky is blue,” she would hear any number of things she “thinks that you must MEAN by that”–never what you actually SAID.

This is not that uncommon. In hypnosis and NLP one of the studies relates to the communications format that people engage in. Normally I’m a little better at dealing with this in people, but that is based greatly on physical intuition; you have to know a little about them in order to know how to say ABC when you “want them to infer” XYZ based on that. I had barely been exposed to her, and she was too busy and stressed out even to talk to me hardly at all, until I finally kind of made a big deal about how we NEEDED to communicate. (My job at a distance depends on it.) Even still, we have weekly meetings, which she actually manages to make once a month.

Early on, I really was irked about this. I didn’t dislike her — it’s work, it isn’t personal — but I was really irked about the entire situation, including her role in it all.

I consider loyalty to my boss one of my primary job duties. I’ve always worked for people where there was a great deal of mutual respect, and a great deal of what has always motivated me is personal recognition from someone I respect–in short, the reason I’m drawn to “power behind the throne” roles in most areas of my life, is because I’m motivated by the personal relationship. This just didn’t exist for me anymore.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, I got to experience the cultural prejudice that the media and liberal college has indoctrinated into the entire country: a whole team of coworkers who were so convinced that anybody not in a coastal state or metro city was a hick-moron that they regularly made jokes about it in meetings. Which I would counter with a voice dripping frost, the best I can do from this distance. If we were that prejudiced against people for being a certain race or religion, they’d be sued into the ground. But it’s perfectly ok to say or imply that anybody who isn’t a liberal or who lives in the midwest is a blithering idiot “just because”. The enormity of this stupidity is just ridiculous. In a San Francisco-area company, the bias was everywhere. I’m a California girl. I could excuse myself. But it’s the moral of it already. Prejudice is gross no matter what it’s about.

***

I was no longer a daily leader in some kind of entrepreneurial enterprise, dedicated to my company’s vision and the support of my boss and coworkers and employees and vendors/ contractors. Now I was just a distant number in a huge conglomerate, buried by bureaucracy and unfamiliarity and at the mercy of coworkers who knew nothing of me and a boss who didn’t even care.

My job is my survival instinct. I get more psychic about my job situation when there is any threat to it, than any other area of my life. To the point of completely freaking out people I work with. It’s my combat zone, I guess.

***

Early on, just at the peak of my early despair about all this, I had a fairly intense dream.

In the dream, my boss and I were great friends. The dream bounced between two time frames. One was some years in the future, when we were very close. The other was a psychic thing in the present.

I found myself at her house, which somehow was a martial arts dojo. We set ourselves up to see who was going to win this little competition. I was clearly winning. She regrouped and we went at it again. This time it was a little more equal, but she was still losing. She stepped back, and a man I knew was her husband came up to us. He put his hands on her from behind, and talked to her softly, and “focused and grounded her.” And then she was a tough opponent. I could see how she was definitely ‘grounded’ and her focus improved by him, and finally she had become an equal.

And then we shifted back to some indefinite point in the future, when I understood that we had become wonderfully good friends, one of the few women friends I’d ever had that I got genuinely close to.

Turns out her husband is a martial arts sensei. So maybe some of that wasn’t entirely imagination!

But wait, talk about coincidence. She herself has a black belt — in the not super common form of karate (Gojo Ryu) that just happens to be the only kind available in my locale, thanks to a local expert, and is the one my daughter is actively studying. She trained with the son of its founder. Small world, or what?

***

I decided to trust my intuition. If my dreams say that she and I are super compatible, that we will be close in the future, and that if she focuses herself she is an equal opponent, then I will go with that, afford her whatever respect I can based on her position and this dream-based hope, and trust that things will improve.

She has grown on me.

I don’t have to do things quite as repetitively now. And thanks to insisting on communicating regularly, by IM if nothing else, we now know each other a little better. We met briefly earlier this year, though I barely saw her. Now I am more likely to say something about it, or even (mildly) complain.

But for about a year and a half, since all that shift happened, I’ve been different at work. Depressed. Totally lacking ambition. I just did my job and logged out. Didn’t do any more than I had to. From a person who voluntarily worked over 100 hrs/wk for about 20 years, simply because I am always so driven by creative ideas, proactive behavior and troubleshooting inclinations, this is a pretty big deal. It was like a different person. “Who wants to volunteer?” she would ask our team. I would silently take one step back. I didn’t care. I’m a fucking number. Any moron with half a clue could do this job. ‘Why should I care’.

***

Several days ago, something inside me shifted. I have no idea what. I just woke up and suddenly, I was the person I’ve always been about work. I looked forward to getting to it, because I had so many things I knew needed to be done and I wanted to accomplish. I looked at our documentation. PATHETIC! I started greatly improving the shared web area we use for that. I looked at that web area. PATHETIC! I started adding handy links and things like that to it. I looked at the documentation for my product line. Which, by the way, I was supposed to do a better job on eons ago and didn’t give a damn enough to really work hard on. Astounded by how I could not have cared, I’ve spent a few days working like 8am to 2am, with just a couple breaks of about 2 hours each, including making that much-needed documentation, training manuals for editorial, and more. By this weekend, hopefully, I will be fully “caught up” for the first time in probably 18 months, and will actually FEEL glad for my job, interested in my job, and “on the ball.”

I don’t know why. I’m pretty damn happy that some part of me finally returned home, though.

I imagine my boss is too, LOL.

Meanwhile, the last two weeks — and maybe this is it, frankly, damn, until I wrote that I had not considered this.

I’m one of those people whom stress actually holds together. I excel in situations that destroy other people, probably because most of my childhood was training for it. Calm, easy, no-stress jobs, even temp gigs I had when not in a regular position, make me profoundly depressed. I thrive on challenge and demand.

Well the last two weeks have been the most demanding since all that job shift happened.

For example, before that shift happened, at our national sales meeting, I slept one hour a night for eight nights straight, working frantically on a million problems and products that were emergency situations. The last three sales meetings, I literally had no work for about a week before until about a week after. Whole days without a single email. I was no longer solving problems. I’m in production now. I just shuffle widgets through a pre-defined path over and over. Until the last couple weeks, when my coworker with whom I share disciplines/projects is out on vacation (getting married) so I’m doing both our work, and the new term brought more problems than ever, and somehow our customers and sales forgot tech support existed and keep showing up in OUR inboxes begging for help on stuff, and so I’ve been busier than… well, busier than I have been since the days when I felt like I had a real job.

Maybe that’s what finally woke me up again.

***

So the other day I dreamed. I dreamed that I was hanging out with my boss. She was really stressed out about a lot of stuff, much of which I had not heard about. I was consoling her and telling her she needed to be kinder to herself. I pointed out the many aspects of her life that were obviously very challenging. Some of which are impossible outside the dream world–such as that I was her roommate LOL! (Maybe that was a translation. ;-)) In my dream, there was a japanese shoji lamp, tall, but broken off short, empty and without light. (In my house, I have one that has no light, but is not otherwise broken.) I interpret that as hers though, for some reason. The fact that she had this broken light seemed significant. But I stuck with her until I felt she had her strength back, and was grounded, and ready to face the day again.

When I woke up I thought, well, I feel closer to her again suddenly. Like we are a team. Like some of the ‘loyalty-to-boss’ that is always engrained in me, has come out a bit. I felt the ‘psychic counseling and kinship’ was probably true on some level.

So will we be buddies someday? I don’t know. We get along fine by phone, but I don’t really understand her from a distance. Maybe not even from up close.

She has an intriguing face. She looks a little bit like that man who played on the show “The Pretender.” I’m not sure what nationality that is. Something from one of the former Russian provinces I’m guessing. She has an 11 year old girl, just like I do — and twin boys, about 5 or so.

I guess we’ll see.

***

Geez. That reminds me. I had some dream this morning that my daughter had absorbed a twin in the womb. In the dream there was some consequence of this; I could feel teeth growing out of her lower torso, can’t remember if it was front or back, but I ‘understood’ that this was somehow related to some problem she was having. Weird!

Speaking of karate and the kid, by the way. For the 18 months her dad lived here, she picked up his interesting ‘habit’. I am working during the period when I have to take her to it, as my biz is on pacific time and we’re 2 hours ahead. I have to take off work to do it and work a little after (my lunch hour+ is getting her from school and errands. So technically I’m working-or-something from 8am until 8pm most days.) The habit goes like this:

Mom reminds that karate is coming in a few hours. Reminds again that it’s a couple hours. And then an hour. And then half an hour please get ready NOW. And then 15 minutes. And then either mom goes to grab purse and run out the door — and kid is not REMOTELY ready, often hasn’t even begun dressing, or is pretending to be asleep –or, mom is totally busy with work details, and nobody says anything at all about the time they KNOW we are supposed to leave, and mom finishes some business thing in time to realize it’s 20 minutes after leaving-time, nobody said a word conveniently, so either we miss it again, or I use gas and time plus disrespect the dojo by being late, all for 10 minutes of workout… so we don’t go.

After nearly two years of this, last week I freaked out. Had an official Hissy Fit. I didn’t want to do some punishment that made her associate something bad with karate. So instead I said she was supposed to be responsible enough to go, and it is only two nights a week, and I had even let her choose the night. But. If she blows it and doesn’t get ready on time, then she will do karate every single night that week, as “practice” for the discipline she must be lacking. If she wants to do karate LESS, she needs to be BETTER about doing it at all. This is a funny true corollary to adult life actually. I figured, worst-case, she’d be really good at karate!

She has now gone for nearly two solid weeks.

Today she brought up the subject of going every night. I thought she was going to plead for a break. Instead she said,

“If I go every night for the next two weeks as well, will you consider putting me in private lessons one night a week and the regular class the other night a week?”

She says she is serious about wanting to get better. More time in it, apparently just focused her more on it.

I’ve probably created a monster. ;-)

It has been a long time since I had the state of mind to pull this particular nifty feat off.

I was in a dream when I was distracted by something beautiful off in the distance. Fountains or something like it jetted into the air. Me and the other person in my dream took off hiking toward it.

Eventually we reached a little castle/keep-like structure, old stone. We went inside, and there were lovely gardens here and there. Clearly someone cared about this place.

A man came out, a priest, and we spoke and he was giving us a tour. He was of The Order of Saint Bartholomew he said. (I don’t know that this even exists in real life.)

Then someone knocked on my door, in this reality. I heard it, realized I had to get up as it was my housekeeper, but SO hated to leave the dream!

So in the dream, without leaving it, I recognized all that, and I said to the priest, “Perhaps my body will stay here with you, or perhaps not, I don’t know. But I must leave; I’m being distracted by something in my other life. But I’m so sorry to miss you and I hope we meet again.”

He nodded, and then I let myself wake up, and I stumbled out to unlock the door.

I can’t even remember the last time I was lucid enough to operate both in a dream world and in this one simultaneously.

Last night was ‘mommy-baby date night’ with my ten year old daughter, which means she got to snuggle up and fall asleep in my bed. This morning when we woke up, she said she’d had a dream and I asked her to tell it to me. I find her dreams fascinating for some reason. I think someday if I write these down, she will be intrigued by them when she is older. Anyway, so when she was done telling me I wrote it down and read it to her to make sure I had it right. I thought someone else might find “a ten year old girl’s dream” a sort of novel interest, haha. You can see the esoteric and archetypal elements in it of course… she is clearly my daughter. ;-)

[Her dream]

I was walking on my porch, and then when I stepped off it I found myself in another world.

There was a stone chair, and next to it, three statues.

I went toward the chair and one of the statues, its stone broke and an old man that looked like the statue came out of it. He reminded me a little of “The Rider” in the Lord of the Rings movie.

I went behind the chair and found a doorway and went into some inner area.

I heard all these ‘things’ coming through the doorway and I hid. They turned out to be robots.

There was this tiny woman there and she and I fought. I won and so all her robots left.

I went back out and the second statue broke open and another old man was revealed.

He sat in the chair, and the other one said why are you in my chair, but then they laughed, they were both kings, but they were close friends.

I went back home to my house and went into my room but I saw this spider come down on a thread and I ran into it.

It fell on the floor and was huge and I was so scared, and I took off running out of the house and ran and ran.

I found myself in a place where the two kings were there on horseback. They had a woman like a young princess with them.

This other man on a black horse who looked a lot like one of the kings and was ‘almost’ a king but not quite, he was a black magician who also used a sword, he snuck up behind them all and killed the princess.

And then there was all these thin gauzy curtain things like in that video, all over [mom's input: "veils"].

One of the kings then had flowers in his hand like he had loved her and he said to her, “who did this to you?”

And even though she was dead she lifted her head and said something I can’t really remember. [mom: 'try'.] It was like, “Bahmitrix.” [she spelled this]

I thought that part was funny like it was a movie and even though she was dead she was talking and then dead again.

Then the black magician started talking to me and we talked and talked and somehow I came to be affectionate about him even though he was evil.

And he came home with me into my world, and he gave me a list of things I should do so I could become an evil magician like he was.

One thing I did was like a weird game where you had to capture things in a bag or net or something. I was about halfway through the list when – wait I think this is where I saw the spider. Anyway – when I wondered, “why would I want to be evil?”

And I realized that he wanted to be a king and he wanted me to become an evil magician so I could eliminate the other kings for him.

I went back out to the stone chair to tell the kings that this man was planning and coming for them.

And then I woke up.

[end of her dream]

I went to bed early. I meditated a bit first. I got this awesome Creative 30G Zen player — like a video iPod but better — so I put on my favorite meditation music (the Narnia soundtrack) and finally got into it.

I had a different urge than I ever had before, and spent some time imagining myself in/at the very core of the earth, which had a sort of offbeat feeling, can’t remember why. I fell asleep in the middle of that.

When I woke up this morning I was 20,000 leagues under the sea it felt like. I’d slept more than I usually do, but it took about six attempts over half an hour, including shaking and light, for someone else to get me awake.

I had this two-part dream.

In the first part, I was working with a group of people who weren’t my people — I mean they weren’t human. We were doing a research study and I was one of the key subjects, but they were treating me like a coworker as well, and we were reviewing the research results.

It had to do with human experience with their species. We had a fairly large trial pool of subjects, of which I had been one prior to my current place reviewing results with them. We explored the data. It was clear that although nearly-all the humans were having the interaction with their people, only a super tiny percentage (like less than 1%) were able to become cognitively aware of this. The reasons ranged from health to psychology issues, but the general consensus we had was that although the humans considered this awareness to be a form of insanity or related to it anyway, that it was in fact evidence of a good deal more physical and psychological ‘clarity’ on the humans’ part who were able to be ‘aware’ of it.

The second part of the study had to do with the frequency of exposure. This was the part that really threw me for a loop. They showed how on average in 24 hours, humans passed through a sort of… you might call it a cycle, kind of like how brainwaves cycle except this is more like a larger earth cycle we are just part of, but that does interact with our minds — and we were exposed to them generally about four times during each 24 hour period. This kind of amazed me. I was saying, but I thought this was something that only happened when we were asleep, or walking through the woods ha-ha-ha, are you sure? FOUR times per 24 hours?! So they sort of showed me (though I can’t put it in words) how and why this was the case. I know I’m translating it badly, but it felt like something to do with four cardinal points and our brainwaves and the rotation of the earth.

Then we reviewed how the ‘awareness’ of the population and the ‘frequency’ of the interaction varied with many of the subjects. For example, even of those humans able to become ‘aware’ of the ‘during-sleep’ exposure to their species, just as low a % of them were able to be aware of the occasional exposure that happened at periods other than sleep. The very few who did, usually psychologically were associating their experience with something like a place — for example, the route they drove every day, they would think they were being abducted from their car or something, when really, everyone was exposed “on this other level of consciousness” and for them the cycle just happened to fall during their long drive.

We also explored how some people thought they had an exposure to their species as a one-time thing, and it wasn’t that it was a one-time thing, it was just that for a variety of reasons (often health, psychology, the cycle, the type of experience, whatever) they were only aware of that one particular experience and none of the others. Something to do with what % of a person’s overall attention they turn toward that level of themselves vs. having it (as is normal) split, and so much less intense.

Oh yeah that reminds me, another factor was that the four cycles weren’t the same for everyone. Even though it was a larger earth-based ‘pattern of cycle’, it related to the individual’s interaction with that on an energetic level, so people varied “when” and sometimes how often (more or less) depending on their own cycles.

Then there was this second part of the dream.

I was working with this group of people who weren’t my people — but I don’t know if it was the same group as the first time, I’m just assuming so — doing a lot more complex stuff. It was a combination of testing (them testing me), and experimenting with what I could do, perceive, etc. as a conscious test subject.

Then just about everything was completed, and the room changed into a bedroom, and they said, “We can tie you, if you like.” They acted like this was a good idea and I should agree. For what, I asked? For The Immortal, they say. It came across with that word and the sense of a capital. The Immortal was ’superior’ to them in their perception, like part of a different species with a higher authority you might say.

I said naw, I’ll talk to him, casual as I always am. So he comes in the room, and I nearly pass out. I don’t know why, but he terrified me. He was at least three times as big as me, although now awake I think that might have been not his body but his aura. He was almost the archetypal ‘demon’ image of our culture, and reminded me greatly of what a close friend of mine told me he has seen in his viewing and ‘experiences’, which I assured him I had never encountered, despite all my many alien-ish experiences. He had some kind of spiky-things on his shoulders and too-small bat-wing things. And he was ugly. But it wasn’t the body; I wasn’t really responding to that, I was just ‘observing’ it. It was the energy that freaked me out. It was so “intense,” and so “large”. So frightening to me.

The energy of an Archangel is frightening too of course, on a really deep level of mortal terror, but that is the fear of God, it is fright based on ‘awe’ and the soul’s realization that too close exposure could do the equivalent of vaporize you. This was not that kind of fright, but still seemed like the gut-inspired sort.

I found myself on the bed naked (this will teach me to wear pajamas to bed, ha!) and I realized as he came toward me that the intent was that he was going to have sex with me. I leaped off the bed and went, I DON’T THINK SO YOU GUYS! He stopped, and looked at the others with me. One of the guys pulled out a sheet of paper and said, “See, you agreed to work with us on this.” I said dude, sex with your freaky Immortal was NOT what I agreed to! A female there said to me, “Oh come on. You had to know from the beginning that this was intended at the end!” I looked at her like she was crazy. “I think not!” I denied. “Maybe I was stupid or inattentive, but I never agreed to this, and there is NO WAY I am merging with that — that — thing!”

Oddly enough, it wasn’t the sex part that bothered me — it was the understanding that it would merge my ENERGY with his that was really upsetting me. It was like it was rape. I mean even if I had agreed to it, it would have been rape, that is the ‘effect’ the energy would have on me, in a really severe way.

Suddenly I realized why they had offered to tie me. They’d hoped I’d say yes. And I’d been so oblivious. Here I’d spent a whole day studying research about how oblivious humans were — and then promptly proved it in my own way.

Then the ‘context’ of the dream shifted, and instead of me being in the situation, I was watching a woman in a movie. But some little part of my mind was ‘aware’ that this was still me, and that this ‘movie effect’ was in fact one way they had of dealing with my species. They couldn’t keep some of us from being aware. But they could kind of lean on us to “shift perspective,” in much the same way that a therapist can have someone “imagine” seeing a past traumatic experience on a television instead of re-experiencing it personally.

It didn’t help them. Despite that I had this strong sense from the others that I was supposed to be *flattered* this ‘Immortal’ wanted to merge with me, I considered his energy a direct threat to mine… as if the experience would genuinely do me harm spiritually.

I half-realized (not entirely lucid on this, only partly) that this was a new and novel approach to me. They keep coming back and trying to convince me to join them or sign something, but usually they are more direct. I usually find myself in dreams standing with my legs staunch, like a captain on board a ship, shouting loud like a magical cadence, I AM OF MICHAEL! YOU CANNOT HAVE ME! I AM OF MICHAEL! over and over, and they have to leave me, obviously ticked off about how innately I snap to that the minute awareness of their attempt to get my commitment became clear.

This was novel though, because I didn’t have that response this time, maybe because of the different way they approached it this time. They never asked for my agreement on the level they wanted, they’d only asked for something I was willing to do because I’m so interested in research, and I think they hoped that the merge of energy, if I could be persuaded to it, would in turn make me a lot more susceptible.

I was being woke up as I was refusing, and it was pulling me away from them. It felt like they were trying to hold me there, and my body was having such a hard time waking up, but then I’d be forcibly woken up again, until finally I woke up fully, and at least as far as I know, pulled myself away from them in the process.

The overall experience particularly with the ‘research’ initially really underscored how our concept that these things have to be physical on *our* level is just so, so wrong. It’s just as real, but culturally we are geared to deny anything non-physical. At times I’ve had the impression this is one of many cultural things they themselves ‘encourage’ in our species for their own ends.

Later when awake, I was kind of disappointed I hadn’t responded like I normally do. As if it is a sign of my having paid so much less attention to Michael and prayer for some time. Time to re-affirm that part of my life.

When I finally woke up, I thought to myself, “Like they have nothing better to do but recruit you during your sleep. Like you are so important. Get over yourself, sheesh!” and I threw on a dress and took the kid to school.

It’s just another day.
.

Today I was looking at a friend’s photo collection and stopped in amazement. There was this photo that in one part of it, looked exactly like I recall from a dream I had years ago. It was a place with columns, and a squared pool, and shallow steps leading in, and in the moonlight. I’d forgotten the dream for years.

In the dream, the pool was both a pool and a place of baptism. But a man of evil was living among us and he had a tendency to take people out there late at night and drown them. We would find their bodies in the morning and nobody knew the killer, but I suspected. Unfortunately, one night, he managed to kill me. But I had the last laugh. I came back, a ghost, I refused to leave, until I got through to the others that the evil was him, and they did away with him.

We watched The Mummy II later. In one scene in this place I can’t remember the name of, there were all these huge round columns. It totally reminded me of this amazing dream I once had where I was in the middle of something that looked and felt just like that but the columns were like cohesive water (like the special effects in that movie ‘the abyss’) and when I would put my hand on one, gold light would spark where I touched it and shoot up from my fingers inside it and ‘rebound’ all over as it went up and then went across this really high ceiling, as if the entire enormous structure were made of that material.

Then there was this other scene that was so much like another dream I had, this one back in ‘94, that I was stunned. In the dream I was standing in formation with a group of people in the sands of egypt, and this big 50 foot tall gold egyptian statue-man who was like our leader in some way rose up from the sand in front of us, pointed his finger at the far side of our group, and this huge blackness like a liquid shadow spread over the sand and crept upon us, coating us, we leaned away but could not move for some reason. Somehow it made a permanent change in the person and was visible and yet… it was not visible, too. Later in the dream the group and I were discussing what we should do now that we had this effect. The effects were things like, it made us need to live during the night instead of day, and it made us want to eat fruit, and I had this strong correlation in the dream of bats that sleep upside down, eat fruit, and come out at night. We talked about maybe trying to sleep in trees quietly but I said no, it’ll never work, people will see us and freak out and shoot us.

When I woke up I was disturbed by the ‘darkness’ symbol in the really vivid dream, and the dreams I had with the big gold egyptian guys (and the sphinx, which was quite diff in the dreams–way bigger on top, diff looking, had a mate somewhere far away, and was sentient, a long-term “watcher” designed for that role by unusually tall thin people) were always unusually… “powerful” as dreams go, with an odd degree of ‘tangibility’ to them.

Anyway. I just thought it odd that today I would see three highly unique things each of which totally sparked memory of a different dream all from many years ago.
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I know, I’ve been away from my blog longer than ever before. I was getting an attitude adjustment, mostly by getting a life. I am feeling a bit better now.

The hard part about not writing for so long is deciding what to talk about when I return. There were several amazing dreams I wanted to share, but the time has passed, and now it seems silly to bore you with them. A couple of spontaneous psi events, but they seem like trivia now. And several great meditations, but now they just seem embarrassing. If I blog on a timely basis I think everything is interesting. If I wait, I feel like my psyche is just a string of beads, with every bead being some trivial event. Like the alien dreams where one is just ‘here’ and then ‘there’ with no in-between, life seems more like that in retrospect.

I think I’ll just mention one of the dreams, because it repeats a ‘theme’ that I find really fascinating.

The dream later felt like a story created for me, more than the other types of dreams I have. I was in a multi-story building with many friends whom I don’t currently know. We were at war with another group of people, and they had a monster, like a giant who looked bizarre, and we were trying to make the big house a fortress of sorts. A man we knew well came to visit us, and began telling us the most fascinating story. It was so fascinating that we just stood there, enthralled, as he spun it out. And when he was done, he stepped aside and we realized that he was working for the bad guys — and while we were all distracted, his people had let in the monster. Everybody scrambled in different directions, as it lumbered into the big room where we were.

I started to panic. What can I do?! I thought desperately.

And then I saw Nero. Remember Nero? I see him more often now, in meditations; this is the first time I’ve ever seen him in a dream. (And I might be inventing that it was him, but I feel more sure all the time that it was.) He was standing calmly in the center of the room, as if he had appeared just to answer my question.

“There is always a doorway out,” he said. “Always. You have to look for it while holding yourself in a state of faith — a suspension of disbelief — you have to accept that it IS there, in order to create the space for that probability to come through.” I tried to do this, imagining that something would fall in front of the monster to slow him down at the same time some opening would come for me, and I told myself to believe it and feel happily-optimistic that “it could happen!” and sure enough, it happened. Later, in a different situation on a high floor with bad guys closing in on me, I found myself in panic again, and Nero appeared and reminded me. He talked me through it, until the situation had a break and I found a way out.

This situation repeated, each time unique, like 100 times in the dream. When I woke up, it felt much like the ‘dream school’ I wrote about in 1994-5 on CompuServe, except I had no guide help there. But it felt like a sort of training.

I’ve always felt that reality was the true test. That the ability to find one’s way out of reality problems and into positive opportunities was the real measure of how well a person was doing with incorporation that Sethian kind of philosophy into their real life.

Anyway.

LD and I were talking about how forcing something novel into your day is the best way of manifesting stuff, because the ‘patterns’ we live in are such ruts. If you want some opportunity to arrive, force novelty.

On that note, I’ve worked 40 years worth of working-hours in the last 20 years of my life. In that time, I’ve had count them TWO vacations. One for a week, one for two. Well I am taking another vacation! I am heading up to a mountain in Colorado to take a break from my life. I intend to just sit around and read (finish the Wheel of Time series, and the Black Jewels trilogy) and crochet and view and meditate. The things I never have time to do. I have a nice room in a B&B with a wonderful innkeeper I hope will tell me stories of her life while I crochet — get this, she’s spent much of her life as a genuine shipwreck treasure hunter! — and a bath and electric fireplace in the room… ah, I can hardly wait. I leave the 17th and will be back the 4th, although four days of that is travel time. I am driving to another city to the airport, taking a small plane to a big city, staying in a hotel overnight, and taking a train the next morning, one for 4-5 hours and then a delay of a few more hours and then 24 hours on the next one–I got a ‘roomette’ for the 24hr part of the to/from journey, so I can lay on a bunk and read. That’s right, I just want to lay around and do NOTHING to the extent possible.

And view. I have been off viewing for a little while now, in my avoidance of the entire subject, and I miss it so much, it’s like a drug of the spirit calling me home. So I’ll be taking several tasks with me. Any of y’all who are experienced viewers (so know tasking) who want to send a target with me, set it up at the offsite tasker’s form at TKR (login here and click the middle box for ‘offsite tasking’ before submit) and make it so it has feedback after 11/20 and email me the link or post it here. I won’t look at the link till I’ve done the session obviously. If you’re nice I’ll share the session with ya. Preferably something with feedback ok! I have enough esoteria right now.

OK, I’m off. I promise to blog more regularly now!

Red

A bit over an hour ago I woke up for work. I’m taking a break to write this down before I forget any more of it.

I dreamed about (of all people) Tom Cruise. I can’t imagine why. I haven’t even seen a media reference to him in some time so it’s not like anything on my mind.

I dreamed that it was the future and he had a little girl who was about four, four and a half years old, and a wife. He had this place he lived sometimes that was a big plot of land, kind of ranch-like where there’s tons of space, had a feel like it was “out of the way” of the coasts (maybe midwest).

He was outside in a rather more remote area of it, with his little girl, his wife either inside the house or somewhere else, when his little girl disappeared. Literally just, she was there one minute and there was nobody and nothing around but a couple minutes later he realized she was gone. He started searching and then got all freaked out and called someone to help search and before you know it, the whole world knows that his kid has disappeared and there’s search parties everywhere.

Time passes. Eventually, they find a body. They aren’t sure it’s hers, so the world is in suspense while they’re running some kind of check. Finally, the news announces it: the girl’s body had been found, she was dead. It appeared someone had kind of been stalking TC’s celebrity identity and had the opportunity and nabbed her.

I found myself there with TC as if I were some kind of spirit guide. His grief was so keen. He had such guilt about it as well, about her being taken while he was right there. His wife also was terribly grieving about it, more than him in ways that make sense for a mother. I “observed” her. There was another woman there, with light hair, who had come when they found the body. She reminded me of TC’s ex wife, the actress NK who honestly always struck me as cold somehow, she just has that look I suppose. I’m not sure if it was her or just someone I got the cold vibe from.

She hung around as a ‘counselor’ for T’s wife, seeming a saint for making such efforts to be with her and so on. But really, she was wicked. She was constantly, subtly implicating T in the event, constantly trying to drive a wedge between T and his wife who had enough issues just resulting from the situation.

When I finally woke up, I felt such a genuine sadness. I haven’t had a bad dream in awhile. I don’t know why I would have one like this, or what psychology, aside from typical today’s-world, mothers-worries sorts, would bring that symbology to me. I hope there is no hint of reality in it and it is just symbolic dreaming.

The feel as if I were some kind of guide though, is just like the feel I’ve had in other-lives memories when a different aspect of me is dominant. In those lives they are the primary-identity and I’m like a close guide. Why I would feel as if I had that relation to TC is utterly beyond me. Not to mention that I’m certainly hoping to be fully in the flesh when his daughter reaches that age. (!)

Anyway. I got set up for work and read my email and my Warder wrote saying he’d had this very unusual “dark dream.” I wonder if there is some shared energy there.

Go figure.

Mundania is such a chore. When I have time, I spend it doing very little, and when I don’t have time, which is 99.9% of the time (no pun intended), I’m trying to stuff far too much into it, sleeping too little, breathing too little, moving too little, sitting at my computer. Some days I think if I didn’t consume food there would be no visible sign that I am alive.

A friend says, “And what are you teaching your child by this workaholism, dedicated to working days for money and nights and weekends for RV and having no time for yourself?” I said, “To marry well.”

I went back to the tower last night but didn’t really feel capable of dealing with the wall of fear and eventually I left. Then I had a dream last night I do think relates to my issues with the new aspects and internal changes, symbolically. The only part I remember was:

I was in this room like a library, which had a big bookshelf built half-into the wall up to the ceiling. My sense of the room and shelf was that it had a lot to do with what I believe. About… I don’t know. Myself, my reality, whatever. The books had that “I know this, I have knowledge, I feel safe!” vibe to them. I was at the very top of the shelf, by the ceiling, standing on the top shelf. I had the sense that I was standing on all these books because they were “my foundation.”

Then it started to almost-topple, and I frantically grabbed something like ceiling molding and looked down, and it turned out there was this guy… he was literally like sort of “built into” the wall and shelf. He was trying to break out from being locked in stillness, to be free, but every time he moved, my entire structure of shelving and books starting going chaotic and I had to clutch the ceiling to keep from toppling. I looked at him and I could see that literally, his head held up one of the main shelves like a support beam. There was just no way that he could get clear without my entire structure collapsing in a big mess, and me falling to the floor with it. He could see what was happening, and he didn’t want to make me fall, but he did want to be free. I realized that he was going to get that way, and I was going to have to find a way to deal with the inevitable collapse.

Dealing with fundamental things, belief systems, and accepting change… a part of me trying to break out of being held in stillness, to be “free” of all that “knowledge” and that fairly rigid structure of archived information… well it seems like it pertains to my life to me.

I’ve been working, and doing TKR at night… the only time I have to view, I’m sleep deprived, it’s so unfair. (I know… belief systems… my reality has issues.) On the bright side, I hope with real effort I will finish all my work this weekend, and should have the new TKR software in beta by next week with a little luck.

I have always laughed at people going on about mercury being retrograde but for some reason in this particular cycle, I feel as if I can literally feel it. I’m sure I am imagining it. Still. Do you ever have one of those weeks where everything just seems so damned hard. Every little thing.

I had the funniest “movie dream” early this morning.

My dreams are so silly! But they are a lot of fun anyway. I like the ones that are “whole linear experiences” like this one.

He was a friend of mine from another world. (He looked like Kevin Spacey, bald, who plays the bad guy in the current Superman movie, but who was a good guy in my dream.)

“I have to go back. I have to tell them that we’re asleep, and totally under control,” he said with grief for his people. Somehow, by “waking up,” and by … climbing out when no authorities were around to stop him, he had made it to my world.

He should have been home free, but he couldn’t stand it. To me it seemed rather pointless—who would believe?—but he was determined. I shrugged, accepting that perhaps this was his destiny, and he concentrated, and a big hole opened in the floor of my house (which somehow, was at the top of a many-storied building), and I could see through this big square opening down into what seemed a whole ‘nuther world of little tiny people.

He had a piece of paper in his hand which he wadded up into a ball and he jumped in—but as he did, this bizarre wind caught me and took me with him. At first it kind of scared me, but then I accepted it, realizing there was nothing I could do. We fell slowly, shrinking as we did, and finally landed (surprisingly softly to me) on the ground, which was a cement courtyard type area of this little world.

Then we saw the piece of paper, which by now seemed the size of a giant ball 3 stories high coming right down on top of us but more slowly, and we took off running to the side to get out of its way. As the paper ball gently hit the ground and rolled a bit there was shouting, and some kind of ‘authorities’ came running to investigate the ball. We hurriedly got out of the way, making our way out of the courtyard and following some path into what seemed a large hallway.

The large hallway turned out to be a street. But the street was a bit narrow, and there were apartment-like housing stacked several (around 5) stories high, and then the buildings on each side ended in some kind of roof or ceiling that went across the street, as well, so the whole area was enclosed. I didn’t like it much, as it was immediately apparent there was no way out except through the openings at the far sides of the street. It was almost like this whole world was “one thin layer.” (I’ve had that impression before of “frequencies which operate as a whole reality.” But I wasn’t aware of that in the dream.)

We walked the street acting casual. The people didn’t look any different to me than people of my own world. There was music playing from somewhere, as if piped into this neighborhood. It was a song from my own world, and yet an old one, and I wondered if it was possible that there was some interaction between our worlds; like, how would they get our songs? It was some insipidly pop 80’s tune, and my friend kind of groaned. Apparently this upbeat song— which, surreally, seemed to actually BE making all the people on the street seem “upbeat”— was to my friend an announcement of something else.

The human traffic on the street all began going one way at each end, and we were forced to walk a little faster (”upbeat!”) until we were out of that “neighborhood” and all around a courtyard on this end of it, looking just like it had on the other side, were something like desks. Like a big library sort of. Except each desk looked like it was a dark-tinted lucite, a glass effect but not glass, and was small, and a person sat down at a stool by it but instead of doing something on the desk, they actually looked “into” it. It appeared that the people were choosing movies to watch, in some great enthusiasm, and I had the feeling that “every night was movie night” here.

My friend was starting to look like he was panicking. He was standing almost frozen at one side, me next to him, as the other people milled about choosing their movies from tall spinning racks. It didn’t look like the rack actually held a movie; just some kind of picture-card. A man in a suit appeared, and somehow I knew he was “one of the movie librarians” and he said to us, “And what will you be watching tonight?” I started to say it didn’t matter, but then realized everybody else was excited about choosing a movie, and acting casual might make me look suspicious. My friend was still sort of stuck as if in nervousness so I said, “Oh, we wanted to watch this one!” and I grabbed the closest item to me and handed it to the librarian.

“Movie-Visa,” he said, casually but expectantly. I froze. I thought maybe this part was what my friend had been scared about. “Ah… we forgot them!” I said with the most charming grin I could manage. The man was totally silent, looking at us speculatively, and I knew that we had made him suspicious. He said, “Well we’ll let it pass tonight, but bring it tomorrow.” I sighed in relief, and we followed him as he walked toward two empty desks. My friend had the look, though, that this wasn’t ok; that we’d probably got ourselves in big trouble, maybe? I wasn’t sure.

We sat down at the desks. I could see into mine quite literally; it was very dark tinted, but I could see that each desk was literally, totally open inside, and that the ground under the desk didn’t exist, as if the whole thing were a shell and whatever happened, was ‘beamed’ up from underneath or something. The man pressed a button on both of the desks and said calmly, “These two have forgotten their visa.” He said it casually, but with a tone that told me that this had a major significance to whomever he was speaking to.

A few seconds later, I saw dimly that inside my desk, someone had come up underneath — literally it was as if the ‘ground’ were just lower than head-height to a level underneath, and the head of a man popped up down inside the desk, dim but visible to me behind the tinted lucite-like surface. Except it wasn’t a man, it was an alien creature that looked a great deal like a Klingon. I wondered if all the people here knew that their movie equipment was being run by bad tempered aliens. Somehow I doubted it.

Something finished, the guy ducked out from the inside of my desk and I could see, appeared in my friend’s. A few seconds later he disappeared from there, and it was time for our movies. I can’t remember what it was that we were watching, but it seemed a harmless, happy enough movie to me. I leaned over the desk, watching as it began.

I could feel that there was something more. I could feel that there was something that was tracking the very detail of my eye movement, and I had this vague memory of my “other life” where this was a real laser technology. (What I couldn’t bring to mind during the dream was that it was the mind-control tech in the movie “Looker” with Susan Dey. As a coincidence, I am pretty sure (not 100%) that the guy who invented that laser tech, or had some leading role in it anyway, is the guy who founded the IRVA. Of course, the idea that it is used for mind control is purely movie paranoia! One assumes.)

I could feel that somehow, my “reaction” to stuff in the movie was being recorded, as if by some computer that could interpret so much about my mind and body through this, that I was being “read” like a book. I had the feeling that there was something “extra” in my desk due to the guy who’d done something, that was specific to my allegedly having forgotten my movie-visa. I had the feeling, as much a psychic sense as anything, that they were attempting to “track our patterns” to match with their database to see who we were.

But I watched the whole movie with no incident. I was very unusually “moved” by it though, especially given it seemed a lighthearted fun movie. I felt as if on some level, it just downright touched my soul. Weirdly, I felt as if my friend had been in the movie, and yet with me, and that we had interacted with each other “in the movie world,” and my response to our “relationship” in the movie seemed far more powerful than any response I had to the movie itself. I wasn’t sure how this was possible, and I was musing about it when two people walking quickly, a man and a woman, passed us in the street-hall. She was crying, and he was angry and it was very clear that they were feeling this way about each other, and that the movie “relationship” had caused this.

My friend watched them, still quiet—he had been so quiet since we arrived!—and I felt, from the look on his face, that this was the core of everything. That this was how his whole world was controlled, why they were “asleep” as he put it. I had the feeling that the movies could cause one person to be completely ostracized by their tiny society in the hallways which seemed to hold about 100 tiny apartments each. I had the feeling that two or more people could be made to feel any way about each other, depending on “the controllers” and their plans. I had the feeling that anybody who was not happy would be made happy, or would find themselves in a movie that maybe seemed to go on for years of terrifying imprisonment. It suddenly occurred to me that my friend might have feared the movie would make me lost to him, or hate him or something, and that he was trying fiercely not to care, knowing that he might have to abandon me at any moment for his own survival.

We were walking down the big hallway and everybody was disappearing into the buildings on either side. We didn’t have a house, and pretty soon that was going to be apparent, I realized, and we would stand out to the authorities. I wondered how on earth my friend ever hoped to get through to his people. I had the impression that he hoped to get into the “underworld,” the one just beneath his, where the movie technology was. I wasn’t sure he had any plan at all beyond that one. We were nearly the only people on the street now, and I felt almost naked, as the street was long and straight with no place to hide. One of the guys in uniform that I considered an authority casually strolled into the end of the street from one of the courtyards, and on seeing us, appeared to know us. I realized that we were in deep trouble…

…but just then, I woke up.

Poor guy. I hope I didn’t leave him there alone. Or maybe some part of me is still there, hoping for Soul Retrieval? LOL.

A dream:

I met a man who had been (and/or was, but I think ‘had been’) a viewer in ‘the program’ (US gov’t program). I had never known of him, and was very surprised to discover his role there and meet him. I saw him so clearly visually, it was just mind boggling! He had dark hair, and he was a really big guy.

There was a woman who had grown up feeling like an orphan, and then it turned out he was her father. But later, more than once I heard myself saying to somebody, “My uncle was part of that program. What are the odds?!”

I kept going back around him, and he acted like he couldn’t decide if he was really happy to meet me, or felt weird about it for some reason I wasn’t clear on.

At one point, he picked up a couple offbeat things in his hand. I felt that one was fire and one was wind, somehow, yet they were objects. He began walking off (to go use them). I realized that they were used as a prop during psi, in a sort of negative RI kind of way. He realized that I realized, and he looked at me sadly, like that wasn’t who he wanted to be, and yet was.

I saw that a friend was online. I was in the TKR forum yet somehow there was a chat right on the front of it, too. I tried to tell him how this guy turned out to be related to me, how he was an expert viewer, how amazing and weird it all was, but every time I tried to type something to him, bizarre symbols came out instead of letters… so I couldn’t communicate.

I found that I was staying (living) with this man, who was going to have some hand in working with me (on psi). But it was a bit of a rude surprise, as first thing, he actually expected me to get up in the morning and exercise! — which I protested greatly, as I saw no relation to RV for this. It turned out he could be quite the dominating bellowing bully when he chose to be. Grouchily, I prepared to get out of bed and exercise.

And then I woke up. Heh.

I suppose my mind is making up some symbols to relate to my change of focus, or something.

{note posted much later: that ‘identity’ in the dream, an archmed later named as ‘Ben’.}

He was a calm man. He traveled up and down staircases in my dream, investigating different levels. He looked an ordinary man; decently distinguished, though dressed in black, much as priests do. I expect my recent reading helped shape his symbolic image. He had a trustworthy face, a kind face, reminding me vaguely of actor Tom Hanks in a current movie; that certain boyishness that some men never lose.

It was only coincidence; we happened to share a brief path of travel. The stairs; the tides. I suspect this was a sign of ‘cycles’, the tides, my symbolism. I saw that his calm footsteps away from one level were in fact an escape. Confusion and darkened chaos filled the place where he left, but never suspected his role.

There was a young boy, who had scraped the top of his toes somehow. It always began this way, I understood; only boys, only that age group. The left foot, I noted to myself in my dream. The left foot and ankle in biogram relate to homosexuality, among other things. This is a symbol: the child has been injured by this energy. More than injured, of course.

I don’t know why I dream of such things.

My dreams have sure been offbeat lately. Had “normal” dreams last night, by which I mean, nothing cosmic-sized or mind bending, just stuff that is probably archetypal, symbolic, and representing some fundamental stuff in me.

I was in a world like this, a feeling of future. Many people were… no more. Some official entity was sort of moving people across the continent in trucks and trains and more. Some woman told me she heard they were putting people in these clothes that had this long nearly unbreakable cord around the neck of it and that they were hung up by this later; stupid scary stories, I scoffed. Later they came and handed out these heavy cotten baggy overshirts, an ugly light blue, with impossibly long thick tie-strings around the neck. The woman looked so mournful.

So I escaped, and I was moving in the same direction they were, as we had to escape some bizarre geology process. I was trying to stay out of getting captured; there were so many people involved nobody really knew I was an escapee because I guess it didn’t occur to them, the authorities were ‘helping’ people, people weren’t arguing about that. I hitched rides in (and on) trucks and trains and jeeps and more.

Every time it would seem like we had enough time, I would hear this odd sound, and smell this odd smell, a sort of burning steam that reminded me vaguely of the smell in a gym ’sauna’ room and a sound sort of like a ‘muffled rumble-hiss’. And I would look around and run over to where it was coming from to see, and actual magma would be breaking through the ground in that place, usually just a few inches of strip, sometimes a few feet. This was not a volcano. I mean, this was ordinary land. But I understood that somehow, magma was starting to come through the land, come up through normal ground like water coming through seams in a badly sealed boat, and that’s why everybody was moving, was to stay ahead of it, stay safe. And I would keep moving on.

I figure this dream must suggest that something fundamental is going on with me (the ground), and potentially that subconscious or deeper stuff is coming to the surface. Not good or bad, just weird when it takes on dream imagery.